Brooklyn, Take me In
by lovinthor
Summary: The Winter Soldier travels to Brooklyn in hopes of finding his past. Steve and Saw follow him. No one is prepared for the emotions that the city brings.


**(Welp, here comes another multi-chapter story of mine! Don't worry, fans of Fire and Ice Collide, I'm starting the next chapter soon! I'll try to finish this up in three chapters. As always, I love reviews!)**

Brooklyn. Why was this place so familiar? Flashes kept coming and going as the man once known as the Winter Soldier ambled down the crowded streets, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn jacket, ratty baseball cap pulled low. Flashes kept coming and going, flashes of two boys chasing each other around a park, sharing a hot dog on a bench. But nothing concrete, nothing he could make sense of.

His thoughts shifted back to leaving the Captain on the banks of the Potomac. After he'd done that he'd fled, stealing clothes and supplies from a HYDRA base before finally wandering into the Smithsonian. There he'd realized that what the Captain had said was true. But he couldn't bring himself to call himself Bucky, not just yet. He didn't feel like the soldier who was a friend to all, who'd sacrificed his life in service for his country.

The soldier swallowed hard at the thought. No, he wasn't Bucky; he was a murderer, a monster. There was no way he could ever call himself Bucky.

But the museum didn't give him any concrete memories. He'd come to Brooklyn hoping it would trigger something different, more than just flashes. But even here, all he was getting were flashes.

The soldier growled in frustration as he neared a busy intersection. There had to be something more than this, he could feel it. Maybe he just wasn't looking in the right places.

He sniffed the air, wondering something there would trigger a memory. The typical smells of the city hit him: Garbage, sewage, standing water, and slightly overpowering all of that the smell of street vendors: hot dogs, chestnuts roasting, meat sizzling . . .

His stomach growled loudly, a gnawing, hollow sound, making the soldier's jaw clench. The money and food he'd stolen from the HYDRA base in DC had run out about a day ago, and hunger was beginning to get the best of him. He was still getting used to feeling hungry, his former handlers having previously supplied his nutrients through a needle in his arm. Perhaps he could steal food from one of the vendors while no one was looking, but there were too many people around.

He kept walking, avoiding other people like the plague, though by the way they stayed away, he must look pretty goddamn terrible. He couldn't remember the last time he bathed, or shaved.

The sun was dipping below the buildings before he realized how late it was. People were hurrying home, no doubt to comfortable apartments with filling meals and nice warm beds.

The soldier pushed the thought out of his mind as he ducked into an alley. It was sheltered from prying eyes and he could take cover behind the trashcans. It would be a suitable place to spend the night.

His stomach gnawed and begged loudly again, and he placed his metal hand over it in a vain attempt to keep it quiet as he took out and began reading the map of Brooklyn he'd taken from an information booth. It detailed it detailed all the major attractions. The one his eyes settled on was a building across town, the apartment building of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. He would go there tomorrow and see if that triggered any more concrete memories.

The soldier cursed himself for not trying the steal food when he had the chance. It was late for any street vendors to be open, and his stomach was twisting and growling more insistent than before. He sighed as he curled in on himself on the damp ground. He'd just have to steal food as early as possible the next morning.

He closed his eyes, wishing for sleep, wishing for more memories to come and give him more clues to who he was. Finally sleep claimed him and with it came memories of a scrawny boy with a huge smile.

"Steve? You okay?" Steve opened his eyes into the worried eyes of Sam Wilson's. The file about Bucky he'd just finished reading was strewn across the floor, thrown in a mad episode of rage and despair. How could Steve have let this happen? To his best friend?

"I did this to him, Sam." Steve managed to choke out. "I let him fall. And if I had searched better after he fell, maybe . . ."

"How could you have known this would happen?" Sam knelt in front of where Steve had slid to the floor, a stern but sympathetic expression on his face. "Steve, after I lost Riley . . .well I felt like I had let everybody down. Him, his family . . .then I realized blaming myself was pointless. Riley made his choice. So did Bucky. You can't change what happened to him Steve, but you can help him now."

Steve took a deep breath. Sam was right, he always was. But where had Bucky gone? They'd searched all over DC, not a trace of him.

Sam eased himself back onto the couch. "What we need to do first is find out what his motives are now. Revenge on HYDRA? Or remembering who he was?"

Steve thought for a moment. "Well, one HYDRA base in DC was raided, but if Bucky was looking for revenge he would have completely destroyed it. He must be headed somewhere that has connections to his past.

Steve picked up the file. "His programming has to be breaking down. I read in here that they would wipe him when his mind would start to repair itself. He has to be healing. We need to find a place that holds some of the most prominent memories of his past."

Suddenly it hit Steve. Buildings hot in the summer, old gnarled trees, the noise from the docks.

He looked at Sam, and they both said it together.

"Brooklyn."


End file.
